My husband, Ray, is a logistics king. He can plan, coordinate, and execute multiple activities for multiple people on multiple dates with the ease of a seasoned tightrope walker. He’s the guy who takes that extra time to see if it makes sense to have our kids drive back home if they’re east of town when we’re all heading to Texas. Perhaps it’s better if they park out there and we pick them up along the way. Get the picture of this man? Completely organized with color-coded lists and a disdain for the haphazard.
Enter this evening – as we hurried to a concert Ray had won online by being one of the first 100 LA Phil subscribers who responded to an email. Off we rushed to the Wiltern Theater on Wilshire and Western to hear a British tenor named Alfie Boe. As we neared the entrance, I noted the usual hot sausage vendor wasn’t there. But, after all, it was Tuesday night, and the vendor probably concluded the LA Phil crowd might not be that interested in his fare. But then we saw no line formed, a barricaded entrance, and finally, the dark theater.
Ray said, “Could I have brought us here on the wrong night?”
The answer was a clear yes.
A quick look at the tickets, which I had never seen, revealed that the actual concert is Thursday night.
Ray looked at me and said, “Well, this is embarrassing.”
My response, “Out of the thousand tickets you’ve purchased over the years, this is hardly a blip on the radar screen.”
As we were leaving the parking garage Ray said, “Well, it’s good to be reminded that I”m not perfect.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “Yes, it is, indeed.”
“But,” Ray added, “I did have a near perfect record until tonight.”
I smiled. “It’s good to see that humility has entered the picture…”
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